


It's Not Your Fault

by Kajune



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anger Management, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Multiple, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Secret Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29996322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kajune/pseuds/Kajune
Summary: In which Ves learns to overcome her self-hatred and discovers solace in the one person who understands her.
Relationships: Ciaran aep Easnillien/Ves, Iorveth/Vernon Roche, Vernon Roche & Ves
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

There were only a few people who had survived an attack by Ves. By the words of her Commander, Ves was a strong, fast and dangerous soldier. Any person whom had Ves set upon them was as good as dead. The few that managed to survive, usually by the skin of their teeth, tended to be lucky and nothing more. Ves never let people she was ordered to kill escape unless something big either distracted her or another order stopped her. 

If permitted, Ves sometimes hunted down these lucky souls. She didn't like that there were survivors, people who could proclaim her weak or easily to defeat, and Ves always enjoyed making sure - one way or another - that her reputation remained untarnished. 

Permission was only ever granted if the person's survival was a mistake, that Ves needed to dispose of them  _now_ . If the person's luck involved becoming too valuable to kill or by becoming an ally, then Ves had to contend with being friendly with someone she had failed to kill. It wasn't a difficult task, so long as the other person was content to treat her with  _respect_ like one would any soldier. 

So far, no enemy-turned-ally had made the stupid decision to treat Ves like a simple woman. 

Out of all the lucky survivors of Ves, only one currently still required killing and Ves had yet to accomplish this task. It infuriated her to no end, knowing that no matter how hard she tried, she could not beat someone. This someone was also legally a criminal, a tree-hopping elf who shouldn't be so difficult to bring down to his knees. 

For nearly a year after Ves' first fight with him, the elf had survived and  _not_ by the skin of his teeth. He was sturdier than any of Ves' prior targets and smarter too. He could outwit both her and her Commander, which made sense even though Ves despised the constant losses; the elf was, after all, the second-in-command of Iorveth himself, the bane of the Blue Stripes. 

This one lucky elf was Ciaran aep Easnillen. 

It was a comfort to know Ciaran was unlikely to go around taverns and boast his defeat of one of Temeria's rare female soldiers, though he would likely boast to his fellow elves, none of whom could spread a rumor that would damage Ves' reputation. That the Blue Stripes struggled against the Scoia'tael on a regular wouldn't look bad on Ves personally either, but Ves still felt annoyed every time she thought about Ciaran. 

The elf didn't even look strong. Tall, slim and more pretty than any man had a right to be (unless he was trying to be a girl), and yet, Ciaran was able to survive every attempt Ves made on his life. She'd fought him in a fist fight, one on one, and despite the blood and the broken bone or three, Ciaran could smile at her and retreat as ordered without fail, like he hadn't felt any pain at all. 

He did feel pain, Ves knew, because she'd heard him curse and grunt every time he received a knife or a bolt to shoulder, arm or leg, and if the Commander's limited understanding of Elder Speech was to be believed, Ciaran cursed colorfully. The elf still withstood and survived every attempt on his life. It was almost a miracle he was not as legendary as Iorveth. 

When the King sent the Blue Stripes out on another lengthy trip through the forest, in an obvious attempt to discourage or undo any scheme by the Scoia'tael, Ves was ready and eager to try and bring Ciaran down. She was so focused on this that the other soldiers had begun joking about it, calling it an obsession and one of the few things Ves clearly shared with their Commander, whom was known by  _the King_ for obsessing over Iorveth. 

Ves didn't want her fellow soldiers to think she had a crush on Ciaran or anything. They certainly thought that about Roche toward Iorveth. Fortunately, Ves could easily intimidate the men into shutting up if the jokes went too far and even they knew, some of them first hand, just how difficult it was to defeat Ciaran. 

The difficulty was part of the reason why Roche was fine with leaving Ciaran in Ves' hands while he dealt with Iorveth. The two of them fought with their equals among the Scoia'tael, it was only sensible. 

Less than an hour of trekking and after several nekkers were cut down, the Scoia'tael made their presence known. A dozen or so elves surrounded them from high up in the trees, their sharp arrows aimed at everyone, which meant most of the soldiers had to run and hide before they could go on the offense.

Across from the Blue Stripes, Iorveth and Ciaran stood on a higher platform but more visible and closer than the ones in the trees, a clear display of courage. These two did not fear humans and at times, they did not seem to fear death either. Ves and Roche eyed the two like predators assessing their prey and knew this was going to be a hunt. To separate the Commander and the Second from the other soldiers was detrimental as much as it was helpful and both sides knew it. 

Ves and Roche trusted the others to survive this encounter and to kill as many elves as possible. If one of them didn't make it back, there would be no hard feelings. 

Iorveth raised his hand to deliver a signal. This prompt every human soldier to prepare for a run for their lives. Ves kept her eyes fixed on Ciaran, whom hardly moved, watching Ves right back without fear. Ves took his apparent nonchalance as a challenge. 

Once Iorveth signaled the arrows to fly, Ves and Roche charged forward and tried to ignore the cries of the men who were too slow to flee. Hopefully, they would survive any injury. Iorveth and Ciaran took off and led a chase, Iorveth luring Roche away as he usually did while Ciaran let Ves pursue him to a secluded spot. 

The sound of swords clashing echoed as soon as Ciaran stopped running, Ves not willing to give the elf an opening of any kind. They fought like this, sword against sword, and close enough that neither had any problem with throwing a punch or a kick at the other. They were not above fighting dirty and Ves reveled in fighting a man who did not hold back against her. This did not necessarily mean she liked Ciaran for it. 

They fought for what felt like hours, Ves pulling no punches to ensure she could bring Ciaran down and many of her attacks did land, but Ciaran was truly a sturdy elf, a stone wall some might say, never once falling to his knees even as exhaustion threatened to make Ves fall herself. 

Anger kept Ves going longer than was probably normal, yet even an anger-fueled punch could only stagger the elf. His punches hurt and Ves truly felt herself on the verge of losing, but she knew she couldn't go on for another hour. Ciaran didn't seem close to losing strength, his every attack as powerful as before. 

"Why won't you go down!?" Ves shouted. She threw another punch that Ciaran managed to dodge, and then a kick that did more to unbalance her than do the elf harm. Ves didn't fall though, she wouldn't allow it. 

Ciaran chuckled, "Tired already, dh'oine? I always thought you would last," he paused to spit blood out of his mouth, "a bit longer than a few hours." 

The taunt nearly drove Ves to insult the elf back, but Ves forced down the urge. She needed to conserve as much energy as possible and talking did not help with that. She and Ciaran were circling each other like two wild animals aiming to pounce. Ves realized she could only really keep going and deal damage if she tackled the elf. It was either that or give in to her legs' demand for a break. 

Ves was the first to charge and easily knocked the elf off his feet. She apparently weighed more than he did, which surprised her. He was as light as he looked yet still evidently as strong as a professional boxer with muscles close to the size of Ves' head. It made Ves lament how weird elves were but she didn't lament for long. 

The elf, Ciaran, was underneath her and panting. He was at her mercy and, like herself, close to his limit, even if his breathing was the only indicator of this. Ves had to believe he wasn't far from losing, it was impossible to believe someone was this durable or that Ves had fought someone whom could endure everything she threw at them. Everything. 

Right now, Ves could only beat the elf to submission with a dozen or so punches to the face and she was prepared to begin. Ciaran brought his arms up to block the first punch and Ves felt her anger re-alight. Ves kept throwing punches as hard as she could, trying to break the elf's arms and reach his face. Ciaran groaned from the obvious pain but remained steadfast in keeping himself defended. 

At this rate, Ves was going to wear out sooner. The thought reminded Ves of some dark memory she kept buried and from which Ves felt her anger boil over. She managed to hit harder and Ciaran groaned louder, the pain intensifying. His feet struggled uselessly, the weight of Ves too much to shove off, especially as she made sure to remain in place, to keep beating the elf with anger not necessarily directed at him. 

Time began to blur at some point and Ves could hardly feel her own body. She felt distant from herself, as if watching someone beat on Ciaran rather than doing it herself using her own two hands. Ves didn't think she could even stop her movements now, her own self-control slipping by the minute. 

That was until an arrow whisked past her and grazed her cheek, startling her out of her daze. Ves came to a stop and glanced down at Ciaran, whose arms she had clearly broken and whom she could feel trembling beneath her. His breathing had become ragged and he was, without a doubt, in agony. 

Ves felt more horrified than satisfied, as she expected to feel. She had unleashed anger from some place deep not meant for her to use. When Ves turned to face the direction of the arrow, she noticed the stricken expression on the elf's face. What she had done was so horrifying that even a Scoia'tael was shocked. 

As more elves showed up to rescue Ciaran, Ves carefully backed away. She pushed against the aching and exhaustion in her body to retrieve any discarded weapons and flee the scene, a single arrow out of a dozen hitting her in the back of the leg. Ves still managed to keep running. 

For once in her life, Ves felt like she had done something very wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you alright?"

Roche's voice knocked Ves out of her daze. Not for the first time since her outburst three days ago, Ves had found herself spacing out, losing track of time and only then noticing that everyone besides herself were in their tents, snoring away and seemingly at peace.

Ves had not known peace since the fighting. She'd stumbled back to the clearing where the Blue Stripes had gathered barely aware of the soreness in her body, of the various cuts and bleeding that made if difficult to move. It was quite a miracle Ves had lasted long enough in a conscious state to return to the barracks and flop down on a bed, only to sleep for hours as a medic tended to the worst of her injuries.

As far as the medic was concerned, a lot of Ves' injuries were severe. She was alive out of sheer spite toward the concept of death, some of the soldiers jokingly claimed. Ves didn't care how bad her condition was and simply wanted to return to active duty as soon as possible, but the medic was less than enthused about Ves' disregard for her own health.

Three days had passed by the time Ves could convince someone to let her join another visit into the forest. Roche had just received new orders to acquire any amount of evidence of suspicious Scoia'tael activity. Spies had picked up signs of some plot, and King Foltest was not eager to let his guard down around Iorveth and his unit. Roche was reluctant to let anyone, let alone Ves, venture into dangerous territory so soon after they'd lost three soldiers.

Ves could still recall the sight of three men dead with elven arrows in them. The Blue Stripes had luckily managed to kill three elves in return, their bodies somewhat mangled as if someone took revenge a step further. There was a mixture of joy and sorrow then, for survival was good but loss was not. Roche, who had reached the clearing a while before Ves, calmly ordered the three soldiers to be carried away.

A proper burial was afforded to them in Vizima's cemetery. Ves was just about able to stand on her feet when the Blue Stripes held the small yet meaningful funeral. The orders for another venture came a day later, and Roche had no choice but to lead a group of angry men through the narrow paths and treacherous ground.

When the Blue Stripes stumbled upon a small Scoia'tael unit carrying supplies of some kind, wrapped in packages that made the contents hard to identify, Roche led an ambush that cost the Scoia'tael a couple of elves. Unfortunately, the survivors still made off with their loot and wore taunting smiles as they disappeared through the trees.

Roche ordered everyone to establish camp and rein in their frustration. He also made a point of keeping the soldiers away from the fallen elves, presumably to make sure no one mutilated the bodies as they had done earlier. Roche wanted everyone to take a break and worry about progress on their mission later.

While the other soldiers eventually managed to shake off their foul moods and excessive energy enough to pass out, Ves couldn't. Like a good commander, Roche sat beside her and expressed concern. He rarely did this, convinced by Ves herself to trust that she would always be ready. Right now, Ves didn't mind the comfort offered, and either Roche realized this or Ves looked worse than she thought.

It was long past sunset, Ves noted, and glanced up to see the sky dotted with tiny stars. She was seated in front of a fire on a log she was now sharing with Roche. Apart from the snores and the occasional insect noise, the forest was quiet. The peace surrounding Ves did little to calm her nerves.

To Ves' own horror, she had barely noticed Roche's approach or even the passage of time. She was clearly troubled if she could not maintain the number one rule of always staying alert, especially within Scoia'tael territory. She had little to fear at the moment, but this slip up and several others before prompt her to reprimand herself harshly. Roche watched as a few curses slipped past Ves' lips.

The second-in-command of the Blue Stripes was angry again, not that anger wasn't an uncommon emotion among soldiers of Temeria, for there was a lot to be angry about. Roche thought in Ves' case, maybe she carried too much anger. He'd been warned about how dangerous she could get and while he would usually brush off such warnings as men distrusting female soldiers, Roche had noticed Ves cursing herself more and more since the fighting that day.

He'd been determined to help Ves when he began noticing odd behavior. Few could survive the amount of punishment Ves had been dealt with in her fight against Ciaran, yet she walked back to the barracks as if all the injuries were but a minor inconvenience.

Ves was not the only one who put her duty above her own well-being. Roche was self-aware enough to recognize this habit in himself. He was still responsible for Ves and he needed to be sure the next time the Blue Stripes clashed with the main Scoia'tael unit, he would not be putting Ves in mortal danger.

When the soldier looked to be lost in thought again, Roche carefully brushed his fingers along her shoulder, firmly enough that she would feel it but not feel too startled by the unexpected touch. She'd given him a black eye the last time he failed to be careful. Ves jolted and immediately glanced around, confused once more and only calmed when her eyes settled on Roche.

Roche wasn't sure if his presence actually brought comfort or instilled the urge to hide her emotions from him, to avoid looking weak. Roche bit his lip at the thought, discomfort welling up slightly while Ves gazed back at the fire, a pensive look on her face. Ves knew she was only glad she hadn't lost much time in her latest daze, and at the same time, hadn't disappointed Roche.

"Ves, I ask you again. Are you alright?" Roche asked, his voice gruff.

Ves contemplated her answer. She would normally brush off her personal problems with an air of confidence. Right now, Ves doubted she could afford to lie again. She wanted to go back to being a good soldier, but the return of an old, painful memory and the anger associated with it had jarred her out of her life, leaving her with barely any self-control, not to mention her extensive injuries.

"I'm fine," Ves said. After a beat, she added, "I hope so."

The confession made Ves cringe and taste bile in her throat, a feeling she cleared by swallowing. Almost instantly, a list of reprimands to say against herself were ready to be spoken in the privacy of her mind. Ves listed off the first couple of insults automatically, and only stopped because Roche had jolted her back to reality with a firm tap on her shoulder.

Ves felt anger at the interruption of her ritual. It was only as she gazed into her Commander's worried expression did Ves realize she had little control over said ritual. It was a habit she relied upon to make her a better soldier and it was always performed with bitter hatred. She realized with a start, and probably not for the first time, that she was hating herself for being honest.

Isn't that what Roche had asked of her? He was clearly in no mood to reprimand her for misconduct. He was here because he was _worried_ and Ves was clearly not feeling well. To acknowledge this filled Ves with shame and she bowed her head, unable to look her Commander in the eyes.

The fire was a nicer thing to stare at and Ves did just that, appearing to lose herself in it. Roche had yet to release her shoulder and maybe, he was afraid to do so. He should be afraid of a lot of things, Ves recalled, having seen a red mark on Roche's neck while they walked side by side out of the forest those days ago. The mark was barely concealed by Roche's chaperon and Ves knew what it meant.

Out of respect, Ves didn't mention it to anyone. She wasn't at all surprised by it either, not after that one day in a tavern in Kaedwen's capital, Roche drunk and slurring words he would probably bury himself alive before he said them in a sober state. Among the things Roche had said was that Iorveth, the Scoia'tael Commander, was beautiful.

Ves had every right to question any sign of the Commander's wanning loyalty toward Temeria. Ves chose to believe Roche had not lost an inch of his love for his home country, not when he'd clearly been injured that day and few of the soldiers had reasons to believe Roche's fight with Iorveth hadn't ended in a stalemate as he claimed.

Not that fighting and sex couldn't go hand in hand, but Ves believed in Roche, just as she wanted Roche to believe in her, which was why she could not risk pretending everything was fine again. Ves only felt the courage to explain herself when Roche chose to stare at the fire instead of her. Speaking honestly was easier when one wasn't looking directly at another person, as Ves had longed learned.

"I fought Ciaran," Ves began and couldn't resist the urge to hate herself for how her voice shook, how her hands shook, holding a cup she'd only just noticed. "I had...lost control of myself. I don't quite know how." The cup's content shook along with her hands, and Ves could barely spare a thought to figure out what it was. Tea? Coffee? Temerian rye? "He was lying there, beneath me, shielding his face and I just...snapped."

Ves squeezed her eyes shut against the flashbacks of a familiar face in the exact same position as Ciaran had been in, but screaming and begging for the pain she was suffering to stop. Ves wanted the memory to be forgotten and bit her lower lip hard as rage threatened to overcome her again. She was close to dropping the cup with how badly her hands failed to remain still.

Roche squeezed Ves' shoulder in what was successfully a grounding gesture. Ves sighed deeply as she tried, desperately, not to relapse into that violent state again. By the time Ves could get her breathing under control and remove much of the tension in her body, she glanced at Roche and noticed he was all stiff this time, eyes fixed on the fire but his expression was...serious? Unhappy?

The Commander was clearly deep in thought but he kept focus on his hand, grounding Ves with a firm squeeze that on most days, would have upset Ves for making her feel needy. An insult directed at herself was immediately flung around in her head and Ves, more aware of the habit than she was previously willing to be, cast the insult aside as untrue. Ves wasn't being needy right now, she was receiving the gesture because Roche _chose_ to give it to her.

Ves took several calming breaths. She didn't feel much like arguing with herself, a battle she was rather bad at winning, admittedly, but no one needed to know that. As Ves released a bit more tension from her body, she was half-aware of the silence that had passed between the Commander and his second. In time, Roche broke it with a deep sigh of his own.

"You told me once of what those bastard elves did to you." Ves failed to suppress a flinch. She had almost forgotten how much she had revealed. The past was something Ves rarely spoke about, for the reminder of those years spent as a prisoner of greedy, heartless men always made Ves feel vulnerable, or reminded her that she had once been vulnerable. Only the feeling of a wooden cup in her hands and Roche's firm grip on her stopped her from spacing out again. "You said they once held you down and hit you, repeatedly, in spite of your cries for mercy. They wanted you to--" _submit_ , Ves remembered and Roche did not say it out loud, the reminder alone making Ves choke on air.

Roche turned his firm hold on Ves' shoulder into a gentle caress along Ves' back, a gesture Ves welcomed.

Those first days as a prisoner of sadistic elves were spent under torture because Ves refused, in spite of her lack of ability to do anything against the elves, to give what the leader of the elves wanted. She kept saying "no" and wishing they would finally accept that answer.

To Ves' fury, it didn't take long for that blond-haired, teenage girl to submit. It didn't take long at all. If she could, Ves would have broken the cup in her hands into tiny pieces. She gritted her teeth and cursed, once again, at the feeble teenager whom could do nothing but cry.

"And what of it!?" Ves shouted at Roche, and took small pleasure in the way he flinched back, his hand no longer touching her, _comforting_ her in a way that was inappropriate for a diligent soldier. Roche chose not to look at her, at the rage visible on her features. He didn't look scared though, Roche rarely did anyhow. Instead, he looked sad.

Ves briefly wondered if he felt sorry for her, for the pain she was forced to endure, years after he'd rescued her from the nightmare itself. Roche had even approached her wanting to ease her troubles, something Ves had rarely allowed him to do. The realization kicked in and Ves was momentarily overcome with shame.

She brushed it aside for what felt like sensible hatred - at herself, at those elves, at Roche's pity - and tossed the cup perilously close to the fire and stood, towering over the man she respected so much. Roche still didn't look at her, and Ves somehow, as she stared down at Roche's refusal to treat her with more gentleness than she would ever ask for, instead leaving her to shout at him all she wanted, felt her anger slowly dissipate.

For a moment, with the memory of her own cries for mercy and the image of it fresh in her mind, Ves felt the emotion buried underneath the rage: sorrow and an intense urge to cry. Ves couldn't quite recall the last time she let tears stain her cheeks and wasn't quite ready to let them stain her cheeks now.

Ves shook her head to chase away the urge. Her throat felt dry and even though she had merely shouted and flung aside a cup of something, Ves felt worn down. The aches in her bones and the still-recovering injuries made themselves known then, clearer at least, and Ves had no choice but to sit back down and groan loudly.

Nothing was said for a while. Ves could feel herself losing track of the time again, but before she could insult herself for this, Roche rose from the log and picked up her cup. Ves watched the Commander head into the largest tent in the camp, the one that securely housed the liquor and coffee, for Roche had learned better than to trust his soldiers with the containers.

The men were more likely to drink themselves to death than kill any Scoia'tael with how much they loved Temerian rye and a large cup of coffee. Roche wasn't quite sure what started the addiction, if it could be called that, and only knew for a fact that he and Ves also liked a cup of either any time of the day; the two were just better at controlling their urges.

Roche carefully handed Ves a cup of Temerian rye, for he honestly didn't want to keep her awake with coffee. Ves sipped at her drink slowly and seemed to enjoy the taste of the drink, enough that from Roche's perspective, she was unlikely to lash out anytime soon.

He needed to finish what he'd meant to say and not lose his soldier's respect while doing so. He was also not in the habit of receiving a black eye should he make a mistake with Ves. Roche waited for Ves to drink about a quarter of the alcohol before he spoke.

"I believe Ciaran had accidentally reminded you of your past and that was what set you off," Roche said as gently as he could and watched as Ves stiffen under both his words and his gaze. She didn't look like she wanted to hear anymore but Roche couldn't let the matter drop. "You're still angry at yourself for being weak," at the first sign of Ves becoming angry, Roche hastily added, "I know what that feels like, Ves."

Ves calmed immediately but kept her eyes focused on the fire, a source of comfort, clearly. Roche wasn't lying either, he'd resented the moments of his youth when he lacked the strength to protect himself. He had more or less moved on from those moments, now able to admire his current strength and how most soldiers could barely lay a finger on him.

He suspected that at the very least, Ves still viewed herself as being closer to her younger, more fragile self than toward a more competent version that Roche had always believed she could become, and probably already was. Ves had already proven herself superior to most male soldiers, and had been entrusted with fighting Ciaran precisely _because_ she was the only soldier - besides Roche - who had a chance at defeating him.

To Roche's regret, Ves clearly did not recognize how far she had come from that day when they first met, the day Roche had given her a knife. Wide-eyed and scared, the young Ves did not hesitate to kill her captor with the weapon once permitted. It was a sign that there was fire in Ves' heart despite all she had endured, and Roche had commended her with an offer to join the Blue Stripes, to prove to _everyone else_ that she was more than what her sorrowful state implied.

"And?" Ves' voice audibly shook, as if she were afraid to breach further into this uncomfortable topic. Roche didn't blame her for feeling discomfort, though he suspected she was blaming herself.

Thinking back to those days in the village, young and only with his mother's career to his name, Roche was able to answer Ves' question, "I learned not to blame myself for weakness in my youth." He'd spent _years_ doing that, grinding his teeth each time he lost a fist fight or failed to retaliate when someone larger bullied him. It took realizing he was better now and nothing else mattered to eventually overcome the resentment.

Roche suspected Ves needed to learn this. The two were quite similar in a lot of ways and he hoped they could learn from each other as well.

Nothing was said for a long while. Roche simply watched as Ves took slow and small sips from her drink, the alcohol likely dulling her ability to remember her past and to lash out because of it. Roche felt he needed a drink too, still aware he had not _quite_ overcome his childhood trauma and, if anything, he needed some help with his problem.

A single nickname that pretty much summarized Roche's childhood was all it took for Roche himself to lash out. He'd beaten more than two dozen people over it, and none of them even knew why it upset Roche so much. Ves was one of the few outside of people from Roche's childhood to know the truth, a piece of information that ensured Ves could be there to try and calm her Commander down.

So far, Ves had proven to be good at stabilizing Roche during bouts of irrational anger. Roche had no trouble returning the favor and even without the help, Roche was still willing to give Ves the support she clearly needed. As far as Roche was concerned, his best soldier needed to put an end to her black outs before her sense of reality faded. Roche had seen two or three veterans who could barely remember their own names they had fallen so deep in their personal nightmares.

Roche would do anything to make sure no one under his command suffered the same fate.

"I know," Ves uttered, almost too quiet for Roche to hear. The expression she wore was sad now.

It was to be expected that Ves knew what she needed even if she struggled to use it. Roche nodded in acceptance of her reply, even though Ves continued to stare at the fire, at its tiny embers.

"Good," Roche brought back his commander-voice. "I need you to get better, Ves, and I'm ready to help you should you desire it."

The smile Ves wore was small but present, and Roche counted that as a victory.

* * *

With the promise of Ves' recovery, the air between Commander and second lost its tension. Roche soon moved to sit next to Ves and shared a bit of her drink. The alcohol was obviously potent in keeping dark thoughts away, for it didn't take long for Ves to try and change the mood with a personal question.

"So...did you get to sleep with the Scoia'tael Commander?"

Roche sputtered and fumbled and was so taken aback he managed to fall sideways off the log they had been sitting on. Ves couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. She was delighted to see Roche's face was beat red and didn’t care that he was glaring at her. He didn't complain (much), and Ves was grateful. She needed to laugh a bit, to not lose herself in too much pain nor sorrow.

Ves listened to the Blue Stripes Commander insist he had not slept with Iorveth. For the sake of entertainment, Ves chose not to believe the man. It was too much fun watching him stammer and blush as he argued over Ves' ludicrous ideas about what Roche and Iorveth had been up to recently.

Neither of them mentioned how such a relationship was dangerous in this line of work. While one could suspect Iorveth would use it kill Roche with his guard down, possibly in his sleep, the danger mainly came from King Foltest finding out.

The King trusted his little patriot to act in the benefit of Temeria, and to do so, he was to serve the King's every wish without failure. The King had made it clear that he wanted the Scoia'tael rooted out from the forest and exterminated, down to the last elf. Roche had accepted this task initially with no issue, but Ves wondered for a moment if his possible relationship with Iorveth was going to change that.

Either way, Ves knew even as she joked about it that Roche was risking his life to be with Iorveth as anything more than an enemy. It was bad enough Roche was already known to obsess over Iorveth, and this thought reminded Ves that she was also known to obsess over Ciaran.

The pretty-faced elf had been a wrongful target of Ves' anger and guilt weighed Ves down when she recalled flashes of what she had done to him. For a year, the elf had been an unstoppable foe that Ves both hated and enjoyed fighting. She wanted to try her hand against him again, but following last time's mistake, Ves knew she needed to come to terms with her past before it was safe enough to try.

As Ves finally went to bed that night, mind numb from alcohol and body exhausted from the ever-present ache from her fight, she spoke in a voice far gentler than she was used to using toward herself that the pain she was still feeling, the shame and anger over her predicament years ago was not her fault.

Ves fell asleep feeling the words were a lie.


End file.
